


An Educational Truth

by a_solitary_marshmallow



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_solitary_marshmallow/pseuds/a_solitary_marshmallow
Summary: Just after the shenanigans of Roman's Christmas carol, he gets an idea for how to convince Logan to sing. Logan is not happy about this.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	An Educational Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delimeful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/gifts), [teacupfulofbrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/gifts).



> Hello! This is my first fanfic, so please go easy on me. It's also kind of a gift to my favourite writers, teacupfulofbrains and delimeful. I'm really excited to show my work and get feedback from other content creators!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and let me know (kindly) if you see a typo :)

Logan was prepared for anything.

He was logic – and it was only logical to prep, plan, and make allowance for the anarchy that would inevitably follow some of his more… unsavoury counterparts. In fact, if he experienced emotions, he may have experienced pride at the immaculate organization of his plans and coping strategies. He was prepared for anything.

He had not prepared for this.

Logan blinked slowly at the dark, lush bough of leaves that arched over his bed, spreading its foliage across his room and trying unsuccessfully to push itself though the ceiling. A Pyrus Communis, speckled with dainty white flowers. A few leaves and curled petals littered his unwrinkled blue duvet.

Logan blinked again, to dispel any vestiges of sleep still lurking in his mind, and found the tree still very much present.

A perdix perdix perched ungainly on a low branch, black streak clashing against the clustered blossoms. A partridge in a pear tree.

Logan went back through his memory banks, scanning for any mention or action that may have led to the intrusive plant invading his living quarters. Intrusive? No, this wasn’t Remus’s style. His way of thinking wasn’t complex enough for anything but the crudest symbolism.

Ah. He touched on a memory from yesterday that he had filed away under ‘irrelevant’. That was where most of his conversations with Roman ended up. It had occurred at five-forty-two pm, after the madness that had been Roman’s Christmas carol.

“Honestly, Specs, it’s not that hard. You just say words to a specific tune at different pitches!”

“I understand the process.” A quick adjustment of his glasses. “I simply do not like to sing. Especially not that meaningless drivel.”

A pause. “So you’ll sing something with meaning?”

“You misunderstand. I only sing educational truths, such as; the water cycle song.”

“What about your Crofters song?”

“As I stated, only educational truths.”

A groan. “Oh, forget it.”

Logan frowned up at the tree taking up the majority of his room. If that was Roman’s motive, he would be sorely put-out at the end of the fiasco that was sure to follow.

Logan dissolved the tree and bird with a snap of his fingers and climbed out of bed. He scanned himself in the mirror to check for inconsistencies, finding his tie askew – he straightened it and headed directly for the kitchen, where the sounds of cooking had already begun. Logan arrived just as Patton poured batter into a sizzling pan.

“Salutations, Patton.”

“Oh, good morning, Lo!” Patton beamed at him. Logan’s face warmed slightly – from the elevated temperature in the kitchen, he decided as he moved to the fridge ad began pulling out fruit.

“Um…” Patton leaned over and plucked something dainty and white from Logan’s hair. “I know your cooking skills are really BLOSSOMING, but…?”

Logan went to take the flower, but Patton pulled it towards himself.

“It’s pretty! Were you out for a romp in the imagination? Did you try to put sense into Roman’s dream plan again?”

“No,” Logan said irritably, “I believe it is a part of one of Roman’s infantile schemes. Pay no attention to it.”

“Whatever you say, teach.” Patton tried to place the flower in his own hair, but the stem was too short. Logan plucked it from his grip and carefully tucked it behind Patton’s ear.

Patton’s face was flushed from the heat in the kitchen, too. They really ought to open a window.

Patton turned back to his pancakes. Logan had just finished cutting an apple into immaculate slices to add on top when a particular sash-clad prince sauntered into the kitchen.  
“Goooood morning Padre, Pocket Protector.”

“Howdy Roman!” Patton brightly slid a pancake onto a plate and landed it to Logan. “Just in time!”

Logan scowled at Roman. Roman beamed back.

Hopefully, if he ignored this childish nonsense, Roman would become discouraged and cease his conjuring. Logan arranged apple slices on the pancake and handed it to a grinning Roman.

As he leaned in to take it, Roman sang quietly, “And a partridge in a pear tree~”

Logan’s lips tightened, and he reached for the jar of Crofters Patton had already set out on the bench. At least one thing made sense.

Virgil emerged with a glare from his room some time later and made a beeline for the coffeemaker, before graciously accepting a Crofters-topped pancake and a smile from Patton. Logan went about his boxing-day duties, convincing Thomas to call a family member before Virgil woke up properly, and completing his various other tasks.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he woke up the next morning with two turtledoves perched on his bedspread.

It was not particularly distressing to awaken to a variety of fowl occupying one’s bedroom, more than it was vexing. Nor was it a burden to find five golden, intricately carved rings – unless they were attached to one’s person.

After attempting several times to remove the gaudy jewelry, Logan stormed into the common room where Virgil and Roman were watching The Office reruns. He brandished his glittering fingers.

“Remove these at once!”

Virgil stared at the jewelry, while Roman cackled. Logan fumed.

“Roman, I demand that you remove your ridiculous prank immediately!” He shrilled. Roman’s smile faded a little.

“Alright, alright.’ He snapped his fingers and the gold bands dissolved into mist. Logan folded his hands primly behind his back.

“As for your… infantile attempt to get me to sing, it will not work.”

“Sing?” Virgil echoed. Roman flapped his hand.

“I’ll fill you in later, Judge Moody.”

Logan sighed. “You have wasted five days on the pursuit. Do you not have any more feasible goals to pursue?”

Roman bobbed his eyebrows and sang, “Five golden rings~”

Before Logan could shoot back a witty and intellectual retort, Patton poked his head around the corner.

“I heard yelling, are you kiddos alright? Oh, hi Logan!”

“Good morning, Patton.” His heart rate was quick. Really, he shouldn’t have gotten so worked up over a few rings. “Nothing is wrong. We were simply having a civil discussion.”

“…okay,” Patton peered around the room, “If you kiddos say you’re okay, I won’t RING you for information. Just make sure to call your GOLD man if you need anything.”

Logan groaned. “Yes, Patton. Now, we have several video ideas to go over. If you’re all quite finished?”

Virgil waved one hand vaguely. “After this episode.”

“We all know you mean ‘season’, Virgil.” Logan said witheringly.

“Guess I should make popcorn!” Patton darted into the kitchen.

Logan’s irritability increased as the days passed. It didn’t help that the sixth-day geese lay an egg in his shoe, undiscovered until he put his foot through it, or that the following morning he awoke to find his bedroom half-submerged in lily pad and swan-speckled water. There were a few koi darting in and out of his drawers. Even when he discorporated the makeshift lake the carpet remained soggy, and Logan squelched his way to the common room, scowling.

At least Roman’s ridiculous antics didn’t impact Logan’s daily routine. In fact, he had a rather enlightening conversation the next morning with a milkmaid regarding historical methods of preserving dairy products. The ladies excused themselves politely and led their assorted cattle and goats back to the imagination, leaving Logan with a pitcher of warm milk and several lumps of cheese.

Logan knew what was coming next. And it was only logical to be prepared. He awoke at exactly 7am, as per his daily schedule, ear plugs allowing only the faintest hum of music to reach him from the nine women swirling around his bedroom. They appeared rather peeved when he walked through their performance without acknowledging the choreographed routine.

Logan kept the earplugs for the next morning. However, he hadn’t accounted for the sheer percussive force of ten lords leaping and bounding to try and slap the roof of Logan’s bedroom. The shaking of his bed stirred him awake twenty minutes before his designated rising time. Rather flustered, Logan shooed the men from his quarters.

It was a pleasant turn to awake to a soft serenade by an assembly of pipers on the eleventh day. One presented him with a cup of fragrant tea before the assembly filed out in an orderly fashion.

Still, Logan should not have been surprised when on the twelfth day, the deafening BOOM of twelve drums send him lurching out of bed. Adrenaline pounded through his system as he scrambled to his feet.

“DO NOT-”

The crash of twelve cymbals drowned out his shout. Logan dissolved the drums with a snap of his fingers and the drummers tumbled to the floor, gleeful expressions quickly turning to surprise.

“Leave my quarters immediately.” Logan demanded. A woman with nose piercings climbed to her feet and dusted off her ripped jeans.

“Alright, chill! Jeez.”

As the band left, Logan heard one of them grumble, “Jared’s not allowed to book the gigs anymore.”

Logan took a moment to straighten his disheveled appearance before leaving his room.

When he emerged, it was to an assembled audience. Roman lounged on the couch, talking animatedly to a coffee-sipping Virgil, whilst Patton was pouring over a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. Even a bemused-looking Deceit was writing in a journal in the nearby armchair – and everyone looked up at Logan’s approach.

Roman gave a saccharine smile. “Morning, Logan. How’d you sleep?”

“Quite well, thank you.” Logan said primly. “Might I enquire the purpose of this little gathering?”

“Why, class is in session!” Roman threw out his arms dramatically, dealing Remus a blow to the face as he peeked over the couch. “We’re all waiting for a lesson from our favourite teacher.”

Logan folded his arms. “For the last time, Roman, I will not be singing that ridiculous song.”

“But it’s all true!” Roman stood from the couch, as if in an attempt to appear taller than he was. Logan made a mental note to remind Roman that they were the same height.

“Incorrect. The lyrics of the song state that the gifts were given by the receiving party’s ‘true love’. As you are not my true love, the lyrics ring untrue.” Logan allowed himself a smug smile. “Therefore, I will not be singing for you today.”

Oddly enough, Roman did not appear put-out. In fact, his smile widened, and Logan began to feel a sense of unease.

“Oh, Logan, Logan. Sweet logic. I believe you are the incorrect one.”

“What on earth are you referring to?” Logan demanded.

“It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“How dare you.”

“For I am merely the messenger!” Roman flung up his arms. “A conduit, passing along gifts from your true love. Which, by the way, no one said had to be romantic. Check and mate.”

Logan blinked hard, processing. And then Roman pointed to a beaming, red-faced Patton.

Perhaps the windows rebooting sound became audible. Perhaps Roman was playing it on his IPhone. It made little difference.

Patton waved, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, Lo. I couldn’t resist.”

It was true, the ‘love’ did not specifically have to be romantic. Given that, Logan… certainly had some things to reevaluate. Including the sudden desire he felt to boop Patton’s adorable nose.

Logan blinked several more times before he was able to respond.

“I… believe I have been bested.”

Patton’s flush darkened to a crimson hue. There was absolutely no reason why this caused Logan’s heart rate to accelerate. Roman looked between the two with a huge grin, and then a contemplative look, which dissolved into the grin again.

“If I’m not mistaken, you owe us a song.” He bobbed his eyebrows a Logan. “An educational song, of course. Perhaps a recap of your Christmas and New Years experiences.”

Logan sighed and smiled. “Indeed.”

No sense in putting it off. Logan folded his hands behind his back and began to sing.

“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me; a partridge in a pear tree.”


End file.
